


shut tight

by himemiyaa



Series: goretober 2020 [5]
Category: The Haunting of Hill House (TV 2018)
Genre: Childhood Trauma, Gen, Haunted Houses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:50:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26840164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/himemiyaa/pseuds/himemiyaa
Summary: The windows of Hill House are plentiful and kept shut not by any effort of those inhabiting the place but by some force unseen, a force which locks them tight as soon as a hallway is empty of life. Olivia discovers it first, of course; thinks she must have simply forgotten she shut them, or that she forgot to open them to begin with, or that one of the children has come through — perhaps Theo, always chilled, decided the breeze was too much.
Relationships: Eleanor "Nell" Crain & Luke Crain, Eleanor "Nell" Crain & Olivia Crain
Series: goretober 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949359
Kudos: 21





	shut tight

**Author's Note:**

> day 5 of goretober is "lots of eyes" and by god i've been meaning to write HoHH fic since i watched the dam show the day it came out. warning for canon-typical unreality and implications of death/child murder/child injury/etc. that being said i hope you enjoy it :)

The windows of Hill House are plentiful and kept shut not by any effort of those inhabiting the place but by some force unseen, a force which locks them tight as soon as a hallway is empty of life. Olivia discovers it first, of course; thinks she must have simply forgotten she shut them, or that she forgot to open them to begin with, or that one of the children has come through — perhaps Theo, always chilled, decided the breeze was too much. Nell is second, and she shows Luke, the two of them quickly declaring it’s only the wind despite the stillness of the days here. She counts her buttons and Luke does the same, ensuring their safety for another day in spite of the windows which close without permission.

Theo feels it every time a window shuts, feels the house grow smaller and more pressurized, and she tugs her gloves to make sure they’re secure, that _she’s_ secure, that she needn’t feel anything she doesn’t want to. When the windows are shut Theo feels like she’s being watched from every angle, but that paranoia is distinctly preferable to the windows closing themselves. Shirley pretends not to notice too, and is excellent at hiding what distress it causes her to lack control. The air in her room is stiff and still but she likes it that way (she claims,) says she finds a breeze distracting.

Steve, of course, assumes it’s one of his siblings. Hugh blames the construction — they must be old and weak, these windows, and that’s why they’re there to begin with. To fix it up. They’ll take care of the house, and the house will take care of them…

The windows stay shut, hermetically sealing the Crains inside of Hill House even when they wander its grounds. The light from the sun reflects off the windows at odd angles, a given for some of the more intricate glasswork but harder to write off when seen on plainer fenestrations.

“What are windows?” Nell asks Olivia one night, resting her head on her mother’s breast while Liv strokes her hair.

“What’s that, button?”

“What are windows?” she repeats. “You said a kitchen is a heart. What are windows?”

Olivia thinks for a moment, pausing in her ministrations to gaze vacantly towards the nearest window. It bears an intricately carved wooden arch for its frame, and sometimes Olivia wonders how it doesn’t collapse under the weight. The glass, so fragile, looks weak and prone to snapping under the deep darkness of the wood. She does not think about herself, snapping under the weight of a colorless world, snapping under the weight of Hugh’s concern, the weight of her children aging, growing, dying—

“Eyes,” she says. “You know the saying the eyes are the windows to the soul?”

“Yes.”

“Well, the windows are the eyes of the house. You can peer in and see the lives inside. You can see decorations… what television a family watches. You can see children playing.” She smiles and reaches for Nell’s armpit, tickling her lightly. Nell doesn’t laugh, only squirms and pushes Liv’s hand away.

_She’s growing older. She’s growing older and soon you won’t be able to hold her at all. She’s growing older and soon she’ll push you away. When is the last time Steve let you hold him? Shirley?_

Olivia clears her throat and removes her hand, shifting so that she and Nell are sitting up, staring towards the window with its mahogany eyelid. “What’s the soul?” Nell asks, looking up at Liv with a serious expression. Her little brows knit together in concern.

“That would be us,” Liv says.

_Theo never liked to let you hold her and now she’s too old, too old to be held, to old to be helped, and Steve and Shirley grow older every day…_

“Oh,” Nell says. She slips herself free of Olivia’s arms and walks towards the window, peering through it, though the darkness outside means she really only sees herself reflected, distorted in a way that makes no sense, her neck twisted horribly to the side and her arms hanging limp at her sides, blood dripping from her lip, mouth kept shut with wires.

_Luke and Nell will be gone soon too, Olivia, unless you help them wake up._

Liv’s head aches and all is black, black, black, no colors anymore. She watches the way little Nell tenses up and clenches her fists, unable to tear herself away from the window, and swallows down an unasked for scream to join her daughter and take her hand. The window bears no reflection for her. She tries not to think about it.

“Are you sleepy?”

“No.”

“It’s getting late.”

“I don’t want to sleep.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to see her again.”

“Ah. Of course.” Olivia sighs softly and lifts Nell up, carrying her through the endless hallways of Hill House, through halls of shut windows and strange reflections. She looks straight ahead. Nell doesn’t. She looks at every window they pass, and in each one she sees the Bent-Neck Lady, and her little fingers clutch at Olivia’s dressing gown and her eyes squeeze shut and she whispers a child’s prayer to herself so quietly that even her mother can’t hear it.

“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven,” she whispers, imagining herself touching her buttons. “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven.”

Hill House watches them move. Olivia sets Nell down in her bed, then glances towards Luke’s, furrowing her brow. “Where’s your brother?”

“Probably the treehouse,” she says. “But he said no girls allowed.”

“I see. Well, luckily I’m not just a girl.” Olivia turns to leave.

“Wait!” Nell cries out, pulling her blankets to her chest. “Don’t leave me alone…”

Her eyes travel to the windows, vacant and black in the night. The Bent-Neck Lady isn’t there anymore, but that’s only the barest of comfort when Nell knows she’ll return.

“I’ll just be gone for a moment, Nellie, it’s alright.”

“I don’t want to be alone,” she repeats, “I don’t want to be alone!”

“Nellie?” Luke stands in the doorway now, hurrying to Nell’s side.

“There,” Olivia says with a slight sigh. “Now you aren’t alone.”

“I could tell you were scared,” he says.

Nell looks at him with tired eyes, then looks back towards the window.

“It’s time for bed anyway,” Olivia says. She scoops Luke into her arms and tucks him in, then gently presses Nell into her pillows and tucks her in as well. The golden locket dangles from her neck and Nell stares at it like a hypnotist’s pendulum, watching it swing like a corpse from a rope. “Good night, my darlings.”

She closes the door behind her when she leaves. Nell quickly removes herself from bed to find her buttons and her cup of stars, clinging to the handle of the latter and touching each button in order, _one two three four five six seven one two three four five six seven one two three four—_

“I wish the windows stayed open,” Luke whispers.

“I’m glad they don’t,” Nell says. “What if she got out?”


End file.
